Dear Diary, I Mean, Journal
by evilrabidplotbunnies
Summary: “Yo momma is so fat she-” And there we were. Me and Granger. Exchanging “Yo Momma” jokes.
1. Dear Diary, I Mean, Journal

**Dear Diary, I Mean, _Journal_**

Note: Hey, I know, I know, _why the heck am I starting a new story_? Well, I am extremely bored and uninterested in my math homework, so I decided to write a short oneshot about Draco. I'm not quite sure how this will turn out, but I don't think I will continue this story; it'll stay as a oneshot unless you happen to convince me otherwise.

I must warn you: this story is a bit… strange. It also isn't the most well thought-out story; I sort of made it up as I went along. I usually don't write fanfiction in the first person, so this is a bit new to me and we shall see how it goes.

In this story, Draco is a bit out of character, I suppose, but it all depends on how you look at it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and all things related to him… although I would very much like to own a very hot Draco Malfoy… heheh.

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_It was not funny. Stop laughing immediately_.

I will _not_, under any circumstances, tell you what happened.

_Never_.

You cannot convince me.

Go ahead, strap me to a flagpole and stick me in the desert. I will not talk.

In fact, you can even feel free to magically bind me to old Professor Snape, whose recent hair loss has further devastated his looks, but I will never talk. Ever.

Nope.

The fact is: I will not tell you.

Thank God there were no witnesses. Well, except for Granger. But of course she witnessed it; she was a part of it.

GASP.

You did not just read that.

Scratch that out.

God, I hate quills and ink. Muggles are so smart to use pencils.

Speaking of hate, I absolutely hate Granger. I HATE her. Do not even begin to think that I like her, because I DO NOT. I repeat: I don't like Granger.

Clear?

Oh God, I am talking to a diary. Err, I mean, a _journal_. Diaries are for sissies, wussies, and pussies.

And why the hell do I keep referring to God?

Ah, forget it.

But anyway, on with the story…

…which I am not telling you.

Ever.

In a million years.

In fact, just to prove my point, I will even erase my own memory so that I will forget what just happened.

Okay, bad idea. That could result in mental damage. And besides, I think I'll be keeping this memory; I rather enjoyed it.

I DID NOT JUST WRITE THAT.

Well, now you have three bits of information. The first: it involves Granger. The second: I liked it. The third: I cannot perform a memory charm.

There.

That's all you need to know.

Okay, so there was more. But what happened was a complete and total accident. I swear. Well, mostly an accident.

Okay, I'll admit it: it was totally premeditated, of course. (note use of sarcasm)

So anyhow, a while (I'll let you judge how long) ago, I was walking to-

(record needle scratches)

I almost wrote down what happened.

My diary is invading my mind and telling me to write things down.

Sigh.

I mean, my _journal_. Draco Malfoy does not own a diary.

Alright, let's continue.

As I was saying…

I was walking to lunch with a certain someone who kept on clinging to my left arm and resting her head upon my shoulder. Well, you can pretty much guess who it is.

If you say Crabbe, I will personally torture you.

And I _will_ find a way to torture an inanimate object.

Of course it was not Crabbe; it was Parkinson.

That bitch.

...I hope Mum never reads this.

Now, as Parkinson was performing her daily routine (cling to Draco, bat eyelashes at Draco, wrap arms around Draco, get punched by Draco)...

And yes, I would hit a girl. I've already done so.

AH! TOO MUCH INFORMATION!

Sigh.

Well, now that it's out, I might as well continue, so that you don't think I'm some sort of women abuser.

Wait, diaries (I mean, _journals_, dang it) can't think.

Oh, well.

So, as Pansy was _accompanying_ me to lunch, a certain brunette Gryffindor passed by.

A Gryffindor who has eleven O-W-Ls…

…and a nice A-S-S.

Oops.

You didn't read that.

But anyway, as this lovely, I mean, ugly, Gryffindor passed by, I was performing the very last part of Parkinson's daily routine: get punched by Draco. As I casually, tried to shove her off me (which isn't easy; that woman is a _beast_), my hand _slipped_ and happened to whack a certain Granger in the face.

And bloodied her nose.

Told you it was an accident. Too bad Granger didn't think so.

"MALFOY, I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

Not exactly the friendliest phrase in the world.

Besides, it was too early in the day to be killing people.

Granger's hand cupped her nose. I saw blood. Pansy nearly fainted. Thankfully, she didn't, or else she would have been left on the floor of the corridor and abandoned. Not that I'm cruel or anything, but she isn't exactly the lightest person in the world to be carrying to the Hospital Wing. She did, however, let go of my arm and run after some guy that walked by. I saw red hair. God, I hope it's not Weasley.

So, I stood there, unsure of what to say.

Perhaps words would have been a smarter choice right then.

The next thing that came out of my mouth was "Ow." Well, actually, it was more like "OWWWW!".

Damn, that Granger kicks hard.

She smirks and then winces because of her nose. I suppose it's hard to smirk with a bloody and possibly broken nose.

She runs to the Hospital Wing and I run after her… to get the bruise on my leg (I felt one coming along) healed… _not_ because I care about Granger.

Ten minutes later, Pomfrey is lecturing us about violence in schools. Ah, what torture. After she fixed us up, we were free to go.

The moment we leave the Hospital Wing, Granger pins me to a wall.

"Why did you hit me?" she snarls.

I sneer. "Your nose was too big for your face. I fixed it for you."

"Oh, yeah? Well your ego is as big as Mars." Typical Granger, insulting my ego, which is _not_ big, mind you.

"Yo momma is as big as Mars." That was lame, I know. But I save the good ones for last.

"Yo momma is so fat she-"

And there we were. Me and Granger. Exchanging "Yo Momma" jokes. Some of which were pretty good by the way. "Yo Momma" jokes are an effective way to learn about creating similes, metaphors, and analogies; it's _so_ true.

We would have gone on and on, until a portrait stopped us.

"Kids, take it outside!" Portraits are so mean these days.

And that's exactly what we did. We went out of the castle and onto the grounds.

"One of these days, I am going to kill you," said Granger in a menacing (indeed it was!) tone.

"One of these days, I am going to screw you."

No, I did _not_ mean that. Don't even think about it.

Granger pauses. "Oh, really?"

I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.

"Really." I look her in the eye and sneer.

"Just so you know, I'm not a guy," Granger says.

I gape. Oh, no she didn't!

I was about to slap her, but she had her wand out. Damn it.

"Careful, Malfoy, I could turn you into the ferret that you are."

"Some people find ferrets rather adorable."

I take a step toward her and she backs away.

More steps, more backing away.

The dialogue, you don't need to know. Just some basic exchange of insults, a few swear words, nothing apart from the usual. Besides, I don't remember exactly what we said; I don't have the most brilliant memory in the world.

But, now we are reaching the important part.

Soon, I realized that we were near a certain unpleasant tree: the Whomping Willow.

Hermione takes no notice but continues to insult me.

"Granger… Behind you!"

Suddenly, without warning, the tree lashes out and smacks Hermione in the back. She scrambles up and away from the tree.

"Whew, that was close. I never want to get too close to the-AHHH!"

Before, we could back away, leaves came flying at us from all directions.

And branches, too.

I had no choice.

It was the right thing to do.

Blackmail me with it; I _dare_ you.

I grabbed her shoulders and held her against my body… to protect her from the onslaught of branches.

Granger didn't resist.

It was not a comfortable feeling to have a whole bunch of branches flying at you from an angry tree that had nothing better to do than piss off students.

I swear I had not done anything to offend the tree. I like trees! I like them! Why the hell did the Whomping Willow suddenly develop hatred for me and Hermione?

Suddenly, I heard this creaking noise and lifted my head, which I, er, had _buried_ within Hermione's hair… in order to stop the branches from hurting my face.

WAIT. We need to pause for a moment.

I _know_ that the evidence is mounting against me, but I DO NOT like Granger!

Okay?

Good.

And if you say otherwise…

I will shoot you.

Now, let's continue.

So, I heard this creaking noise, lifted my head and saw a horrific sight: the Whomping Willow was about to squash us.

Thus, I did the heroic thing.

I got out of the way and left Hermione there to get hit.

No, I'm totally kidding.

I wouldn't do that. Us Slytherins aren't _that_ cruel. Unless you count the time when Blaise lit Mrs. Norris on fire. But that was an accident; he was trying to burn down the portrait of Sir-what's-his-face.

Actually, I shoved Hermione aside and braced myself for pain.

Talk about courage.

You may take a moment and applaud my selflessness; I'll wait.

Sigh.

Now, where were we again? God, I suck at telling stories.

So anyway, I braced my self for pain… (insert dramatic music here)

It came.

You can imagine a large tree about to fall down on me in slow motion. Now, add a few moves from the Matrix and that's pretty much what it looked like.

I attempted to dodge the branches, but they all came at me at once, and no Matrix moves could save me.

Hermione must have been looking on in horror. Or perhaps eating popcorn. That's what I would have done. Hey, good entertainment is hard to find these days!

But, instead of slamming into me, the branches of the Whomping Willow hit my head and grabbed (yes, branches can grab stuff)… my hair.

NO.

Not the hair.

Anything but the hair.

Well, anything except my… err…

Let's continue.

It hurt like the time I tried to see if I could jump onto my desk while McGonagall wasn't looking. I didn't make it, and ended up crashing into Crabbe. I got detention for two weeks. The old hag. She's on my Hate List. Along with you, oh dear diary… I mean, _journal_.

So, basically what happened was I got pulled upward by my hair (feel free to feel sorry for me). Hermione, being the valiant Gryffindor, tried to pull me down by my feet. That only caused more pain.

And, what's worse, my pants… err… began to _slip_.

You can only imagine what came next.

Ahem.

Let's fast forward, shall we?

Ahh! I can hear you in my head _telling_ me to describe what happened!

Sigh.

Oh, alright, fine. Just stop haunting me. I like to keep my head to myself.

So, basically, my pants fell down…

Well, no, Hermione sort of helped pull them down when she tried to "save" me.

Hermione fell, still clutching my pants, while the Whomping Willow was still clutching my hair.

But the worst part is, I was wearing boxers with ferrets on them. (I swear I did not buy them; they were a gift from Mum!)

I'm sure Granger has had a good laugh about it. Half the school knows by now, mind you.

But finally, Hermione did this clever thing.

Pulling out her wand, she severed the branches from the Whomping Willow. Smart girl.

I fell to the ground but didn't get my hair ripped out the Whomping Willow, thank goodness. My hair is the basis of my good looks; I can't afford to lose it.

Now, that only left the small matter of me having branches in my hair.

I could have kissed Granger right then.

I know, I know, you are most likely making another tally mark in the "Draco Likes Granger" column. Fine then. See if I care.

Okay, I totally care.

I DON'T LIKE HER.

Hmph.

I "HMPH" YOU, OH DIARY!

I mean, _journal_.

So Granger and I managed to recover from the attack of the Whomping Willow.

Then there was dialogue, blah-blah-blah, ya-di-ya-di-ya… Let's not get into that.

Yes, I am cutting out parts of my own story.

Deal with it.

I'm getting hand cramps. Damn quills.

So then we had this, um, _moment_, you know. We looked into each others eyes and all that crap.

Perfect moment for making out, I know, right?

But of course, we didn't.

We waited until we got out of range of the Whomping Willow.

Snicker, snicker.

What?

What you looking at me for?

She's a good kisser.

No, we did not spontaneously discover some sort of newfound passion for each other; I don't write cheesy love stories!

And this is NOT a cheesy love story!

It isn't!

I swear!

There is no cheese involved! (Except for last night's dinner, but that is a completely different story.)

It may be a _chocolaty_ love story, but never a cheesy one.

Ever.

So, we kissed. I admit it. But, there are no witnesses, and if you asked me about it, I'd deny the whole thing.

I mean, it wasn't like one minute we hated each other, and the next we're suddenly in love.

It happened over the course of, oh, say _twenty_ minutes?

But somehow, it occurred to me that Granger was rather pretty and that I somehow liked her.

The end.

Fine, I'm kidding.

So basically, after we were safe from the Whomping Willow, we walked back to the castle, talking and perhaps thinking thoughts about each other. I shall not delve into detail because even some very personal aspects of my life shall not be revealed, even to my diary.

I mean, my _journal_.

Okay, _yes_, I am admitting it: I like her. Like I said, deal with it, punk.

Oh my God, I just called my diary, I mean, _journal_, a _punk_.

I'm going insane.

But back to the story…

So, what happened afterward is private. And I do mean _private_. However, I will tell you that it eventually involved dates at Hogsmeade, kissing, and, of course, naughty thoughts. Oh, and there was also a hotel bedroom with some lovely pink sheets. Sigh. What a shame.

But you know, I won't be writing down any of _that_. After all, that information is private.

It's for my eyes only. Not yours.

…Okay, I admit it.

Maybe it _was_ a cheesy love story.

So sue me.

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	2. How to Kill the Whomping Willow

How to Kill the Whomping Willow

Note: Before you get all excited, THIS IS NOT REALLY AN UPDATE. This is the same oneshot I posted as a sequel to Dear Diary, I Mean,_ Journal_; the oneshot was titled How to Kill the Whomping Willow. I have deleted it so that I could add it as a second chapter to this story (yes, the reviews were deleted too, but I did read through all 65 of them).

So, the contents of the following chapter are EXACTLY the same as How to Kill the Whomping Willow. I realized that loads of people who were waiting for an update to Dear Diary hadn't realized that I had written a separate oneshot sequel, so I added How to Kill the Whomping Willow as another chapter. Got it? Okay.

But, for those who HAVE read this before, I would be honored it if you just took a moment to read it again, just for laughs.

I MAY consider continuing this story. Maybe, if I get enough ideas to write another chapter.

This chapter was meant as a separate oneshot, so think of it as another "diary" entry by Draco. Therefore, the writing isn't as "connected" as it would be if I had simply written this from third person and not in diary form.

Some of the "Plans" at the very end of this chapter are derived from the ways to kill Barney (which I Googled for inspiration). But there are many different versions, I think, and after a while, everyone's bound to come up with the same end results, so I hope I haven't infringed upon any copyrights...

Last thing, and then I'll let you get on with reading. I know I haven't updated the Ten Labors in almost SIX MONTHS (well, before updating it today). Yes, this bothers me a lot. I wish I could turn into a vampire from Twilight and work at super-high speeds and get everything done instantly. Obviously, I am still human. Or rather, bunny.

Please check out my most recent story, "Harry Potter Buys Life Insurance"! It's pretty short and worth a read.

Disclaimer: How many times do I have to tell you? I don't own Barry Potter!

* * *

_Okay, I'll admit it._

You were right and I was wrong.

There.

Happy?

No?

Sigh. Diaries are so hard to please.

But what's even worse is the fact that I'm writing in this diary again. Yes, of course I meant to say _journal_. Duh. But I have a very good reason. I realized that I can't exactly throw this diary away. Not because I'm emotionally attached to it (eww) but because I kinda… sorta… wrote in it. Oops. And ink is rather permanent (unless you're Snape and can erase ink by rubbing it in your greasy hair). So there is basically only one other option…

…I have to actually use this diary.

I MEANT JOURNAL!

Now that part I just don't get.

And you know what else I don't get? How could the two brightest students in Hogwarts fail at something? When you team up with Granger, doesn't that basically guarantee success in all intellectual endeavors?

Maybe I didn't have my lucky ferret-boxers on.

Crap.

I did not just write that! Erase! _Erase! ERASE!_

And I just _know_ you are going to hold that against me for the rest of my life. Aren't you?

Well if that gives your demonic head something to ponder for the moment, let me tell you what happened. One day not so long after the… ahem, _incident_ which involved me, Granger, the Whomping Willow, spontaneous kissing, and ferret boxers, I decided that the Whomping Willow deserved to be cut down a burned to a crisp in Snape's fireplace.

Why?

Because it had humiliated me.

End of story.

Goodbye.

So, of course I just _had_ to enlist the help of Granger. Because she's smart, of course. It had _nothing_ whatsoever to do with her looks. And eyes. And body. And –

Draco?

Yes?

Shut up.

Okay.

Oh. My. God.

I just talked to myself.

On paper.

Now back to the story.

After a few moments of heated kissi–I mean, _discussion_, Granger and I decided that we were going to cut down the aforementioned tree. With an axe, of course. I mean, what else could we use?

We borrowed a pair of axes from a broom shed we had made out in – err, I mean, _stumbled upon_, and set out to do the deed.

When we got to the Whomping Willow, it looked as if it was in a state of rest, so naturally, I picked up a rock and threw it at the tree to see if it was still alive. Yes, that was dumb, I know. But it seemed like a good, safe idea…

At the time.

I'm not sure what happened next, but I remember getting hit in the head with the same rock. Either I have VERY bad aim, or the tree threw the rock back at me.

Suddenly, for the second time that week, Granger and I got attacked by the Whomping Willow. What had I ever done to that tree? I mean, come on! It was just a rock! Who goes crazy on you and starts beating you up for throwing just one puny little rock?

The tree was oblivious to the fact that I was _Draco Malfoy_, and did not deserve to be attacked by trees.

So what was a guy to do?

I ran for it.

Screaming.

No, wait, scratch that. I most definitely did NOT scream. I was… erm… singing?

Never mind.

The point is, I ran, and Granger followed.

Later, in the comfort of a broom closet again, we… discussed where our plan went awry. Granger said it had something to do with the fact that we didn't bother to make a plan and that I angered the tree by throwing a rock at it.

I think it was because the Whomping Willow was PMS-ing.

Trees can PMS, right?

I must have said that out loud, because Granger started rolling her eyes at me and muttered something involving the words "boys" and "stupid" under her breath.

After that was settled, we finished our… _discussion_… still in the broom closet. Ahem. Anyways…

Tomorrow, we commenced with Plan A, since the previous mishap wasn't actually a plan, Granger explained.

Okay.

Plan A, in a nutshell, involved me running at the tree with an axe in my rage before Granger actually had a chance to immobilize the tree (the part of the plan which I kinda forgot about), so I woke up in the Hospital Wing two hours later with a bruised face and SERIOUS wedgie. Oh, that and Granger was standing over me lecturing me on how stupid I was. Yeah, yeah.

So, my failure to comply with the original plan led us to Plan B. 'Cause she HAS to assign a letter name to every single plan...

This time, Hermione held the axe and stood out of range of the Whomping Willow while I attempted to immobilize it.

Except there was a teeny problem with me messing up the spell ("It was a _swish_, not a jab!" cried Know-it-all) and getting attacked by the Whomping Willow again. Great.

After that, we gave up on the immobilization part of the plan.

Then, I had a brilliant idea.

We were going to light the Whomping Willow on FIRE.

Muwahz.

It was foolproof.

Or at least I thought so.

Then Know-it-all had to go around pointing out every single flaw in my plan ("You absolutely cannot go running at the Whomping Willow, start yelling _INCENDIO_, and expect it to burst into flame!"), which I didn't understand. Something to do with the fact that it was a fairly large and disturbed tree. And that there are wards on it that prevent it from being harmed by spells.

And that was how Granger and I ended up running at the Whomping Willow with a handful of Muggle cigarette lighters and kindling. There was no way that Plan C could fail.

But, as you know, there is always an exception.

See, Filch has no life… so he decided that he would walk around the castle at night trying to catch students at their love lives while contemplating his lack of one. Then, he kinda looked out the window, saw two people running around the Whomping Willow with fire while doing some sort of war chant, all the more noticeable since it was pitch dark outside (we were going for secrecy...).

Oops.

If it wasn't for that, our plan would have worked, I swear!

Basically, what we did was tie up little bundles of kindling that were magically enchanted to combust explosively when lit.

In other words, Draco Malfoy invented the Kindle-bomb.

Cue the applause.

And then, for the second part of my brilliant plan that I came up with all by me onesy, we were going to catapult the lit kindle-bombs into the air at the Whomping Willow in the middle of the night when supposedly no one could see us (I guess fire isn't so invisible at night, is it?) and thus destroy said Whomping Willow in a pillar of flames and explosions, BWAHAHA!

Hem.

It would have happened… but Filch (darn him) ran out of the castle and straight at us at the first sign of mischief while carrying and positively _caressing_ Mrs. Norris in his glee.

And then the plan went wrong. Again.

See, it was really, really dark, so when Filch ran at us, he overlooked the fact that he could barely see the ground and what was on it in his haste to stop us troublemakers.

Granger hit me on the arm as soon as she saw Filch coming. I was about to launch the first lit kindle-bomb, but I was distracted and accidentally knocked the catapult a few inches off mark when Granger hit me.

Then, a number of things happened.

Filch tripped over one of our backup catapults that we had set aside for later use. (It was Granger's idea, not mine, that we should set up backup catapults! If she had listened to _me_ and not be such a compulsive freak, we would have been fine without the catapults and Filch never would have tripped and… wait… that means that he would've gotten to us sooner. Oops. Never mind…)

So, anyhow, Filch tripped and threw his arms into the air like a little girly.

Mrs. Norris came sprawling through the air straight at my face.

I panicked.

I did what any other person would have done!

Do NOT blame me; I acted merely in self defense!

Ahem.

I…

I kinda… sorta…

I shot a kindle-bomb at her.

Oops.

You can pretty much imagine what happened next.

BOOM.

_Major_ oops.

Filch went insane.

Granger and I got detention… for three weeks…

…where we contemplated the many uses of an empty classroom (Snape had severe bladder control issues and frequented the men's room) at eleven o'clock at night.

Heehee.

Eventually, the three weeks of detention ended, and Granger and I had come up with more plans for the elimination and/or destruction of said Whomping Willow.

Then, it came time to actually execute the plans.

Enough said.

_Plan D_: TNT.

_Status_: Failed. Had an _accident_ transporting the TNT while outside of Snape's classroom. Snape not happy.

_Plan E_: Get a whole bunch of fake fruit, fill them with razor blades, and chuck them at the Whomping Willow.

_Status_: Failed. Razor blades ineffective against tree trunk. And we only had three of them due to a lack of sufficient donations.

_Plan F_: Shoot it with a machine gun.

_Status_: Failed. Machine gun confiscated by McGonagall. Detention.

_Plan G_: Launch an atomic bomb at it.

_Status_: Failed. Unable to obtain atomic bomb. Facing an inquiry with Muggle government.

_Plan H_: Lawn-mower it.

_Status_: Failed. Granger ineffectively explained to me what a lawn mower was. It _looked_ like a go-cart...

_Plan I_: Make it acid-rain on it.

_Status_: Failed. Request for weather modification denied by Ministry.

_Plan J_: Launch dungbombs at it until it reeks so bad that Dumbledore will have to remove it.

_Status_: Failed. Has been enchanted to repel dungbombs and deflect them into the face of the launcher… which happened to be me.

_Plan L _(Wait, what happened to Plan K?): _Wingardium Leviosa_ it.

_Status_: Failed. Trees do not _Wingardium Leviosa_ easily.

_Plan M_: Send a load of rabid squirrels to attack it.

_Status_: Failed. Rabid squirrels were too… rabid.

_Plan N_: Smother it with Snape's hair grease.

_Status_: (getting tired of repeatedly writing "failed"…) Could not remove hair from the Snape. Too greasy. Lack of proper grip.

_Plan O_: Set Grawp on it.

_Status_: Had to abort due to lack of personnel (one of us ran away at the sight of Grawp, though I won't say _which_ one it was).

_Plan P_: Fly a car into it.

_Status_: Cars do not _Wingardium Leviosa_ very well either.

_Plan Q_: Drench it in liquid nitrogen and hit it with a bat to see if it breaks.

_Status_: It _looked_ like a vat of steaming butterbeer…

_Plan R_: A black hole.

_Status_: …What?

_Plan S_: Drown it.

_Status_: Accidentally caused flood on Hogwarts grounds because Granger didn't have time to cast a spell to contain the water before I _Accio_'d all the water in the lake. Detention.

_Plan T_: Get a pack of hounds to pee on the soil around it.

_Status_: Lack of fire hydrant.

_Plan U:_ Smother it in ferocious, radioactive termites. HA!

_Status:_ Termites died in Muggle thing called microwave. Apparently, forty seconds was a bit too long.

_Plan V_: Write a formal letter of complaint to our Heads of House.

_Status_: McGonagall was unamused. Snape didn't give a crap.

_Plan W_: Write a formal letter of complaint to Albus Dumbledore.

_Status_: Dumbledore was too amused.

_Plan X_: Write a formal letter of complaint to Fudge.

_Status_: Received a signed postcard two weeks later. Managed to kidnap delivery owl out of spite.

_Plan Y_: Tell Fudge that if he doesn't make Dumbledore get rid of the Whomping Willow, we're going to torture and kill his owl.

_Status_: Got arrested for threatening the Minister of Magic.

And after that… we realized that maybe trying to kill the Whomping Willow wasn't the best idea.

Granger and I did, however, have a fun time. Which is all that counts, right? Besides, I managed to convince Granger that every failed attempt was worth at least a trip to the broom closet...

To discuss our future endeavors, of course.

But, as I pointed out, we still had one more Plan left before we were officially pathetic losers incapable of effectively killing the Whomping Willow.

Which… lead us to Plan Z.

_Request the help of the Weasley twins._

There was no way we could fail anymore.

And if we did…

…it was their problem now.


End file.
